


Well, isn't this great?

by Klangfarbenmelodie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Accent, Exchange Student, Gen, Globalisation: rhymes with deforestation!, High-school au, How Do I Tag, If we keep consuming at our usual rates--there'll be nothing to worry about., New Student, Nothing., Southland - Freeform, Students, Whoohoo accents, anti-valentine's, or - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-18 23:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13692108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klangfarbenmelodie/pseuds/Klangfarbenmelodie
Summary: A new student joins your class. He's British—you think—which is great!Yeah, great, because you aren't self-conscious about your horrible pronunciation or anything.(Anti-Valentines night tribute)





	Well, isn't this great?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadysDaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadysDaze/gifts).



> Hey, [I](https://elveaskyefal.tumblr.com/) need to finish writing some angst, but I decided to poke sticks at my own accent! Also, Anti-Valentine's Night tribute!  
>  ~~Doesn't excuse the fact that I'm a procrastinating bastard~~.  
>  This is something that I'd be /very/ worried about if I went to another country ( _cough_ England _cough_ ), and I decided to play it up a bit.
> 
> Also, just warning that I did try to edit it, but some things don't flow as well as I hoped.

Of course, this had to happen. Of course, the Brit—?—sat next to you. You had nothing against the new student. In fact, it was the contrary—you had issues with yourself.

Your pronunciation was horrible.

You slurred words, missed out letters, spoke at the speed of light, and had this magnificent habit of rolling your r-s, thanks to your Southland heritage.

Your parents did it as well, but, from a foreigner's perspective, you were better off using a notepad to communicate with them, to save hassle. This had happened, when you were flying up north once. It was embarrassing. That person was also from England, to add insult to injury.

How your country's patterns of speech differed so much from the country that colonized it, you did not know.

And this guy next to you was a Brit, wasn't he? You still didn't understand the difference between Britain and England, and you couldn't look it up with _him sitting right next to you_. Even if it was to avoid offending him.

So, the two of you sat, in awkward silence, whilst the rest of the class blabbered away.

'Hello.' He said, when the tension had escalated to a point where it was so thick that you could drown in it.

You smiled—grimaced, but you hoped he didn't notice—and waved. Don't worry. Everything is fine. You can people. Not that hard.

'Hi,' you replied, as quickly as possible without it looking _that_ suspicious. Of course, the whole time you were praying that he wouldn't start a conversation. Because wouldn't _that_ be awkward.

'So, what are we studying in general?' He queried, gesturing to the sheet of paper before him. You tapped the heading—Globalisation—and he made a comment about "how could I miss that?"

You wanted to reply, "easily, as it appears," but you didn't. That would have been rude, and—more important by far—it involved speaking. Instead, you taped near your eyes, earning from a smile from Mr. What's-his-name, and a goodhearted chuckle.

He seemed to have read your mind, because he introduced himself, despite already having done one to the class. 'Arthur Kirkland, pleasure to make your acquaintance.'

Lifesaver! 'Likewise,' you replied, shaking his offered hand. 'So, where in—England are you from?' Great. Splendid. It's even _more_ unintelligible then normal. Upon sensing his hesitation, you wrote down the message, and passed it over to him, then took a second glance at it.

You wrote in _cursive_. It took your teachers months to learn how to read your handwriting. People often complimented your handwriting as "beautiful," but you begged to differ. It was messy and illegible. Wow, look at the standard of "good." Was that how politics worked?

You snatched it back, and re-wrote the message, making sure to print it. You passed it to him—again—and completed some of your worksheet whilst he read it. After that, he handed it back to you.

He had drawn a map and labelled it. Even with surrounding countries, and a rude comment about France. And yes, you could call him a Brit. Oh, how the relief seeped from you, dripped down from your form and into the carpet. Arthur gestured to the paper, 'what about you?'

'O-oh.' Smooth. 'My parents were from dow—Southland. And I'm just from,' you swept your arms around you, 'here.'

Arthur hummed in response, and you were back to silence. Not the all-consuming silence of earlier, but a much more … comfortable one. You completed a few more tasks, and he was doing the same.

'Is that where the accent comes from?' He asked. You nodded. 'Have you got anything on after school, love?'

You shook your head, 'no.'

He slipped you a note, before the bell rang. Once out of the class, and onto your next spell, you read it.

' _Meet me by the library after school_. _I can help you with your pronunciation_ — _and handwriting_ — _seeming as you were so self-conscious about it_.'

You realised something. Three things, to be precise.

One: His handwriting was perfect.

Two: You never told him your name.

Three: He _knew_!? _All that time_?

**Author's Note:**

> Heyy this is for [LadysDaze](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LadysDaze/pseuds/LadysDaze) because their stuff is lit!
> 
>  
> 
> ( _Yes, I have started watching Higurashi. I dragged my friend at school into it, and we're both enjoying it._ )


End file.
